"It might be thought we could do without another account of an Irish childhood and a wet-behind-the-ears arrival in London, but we couldn't do without this one... He is in fact a relishably odd fish...'Memories aren't true. But you can be true to them.' This comes near the end and defines the half-heard strain of stubborn honourableness that holds together the humourous melancholy of this memorable book. P.J. Kavanagh, The Spectator; Young is like Orwell's Henry Miller, getting on with his own life while momentous events surge on beyond his control...At one point Young is game enough to admit that 'poetry is a state of panic where some poor souls suffer for a time before they go to repose', but he has hardly turned his back on poetry in writing this book, which is highly poetic in its subjectivity, in its fine dissection of feeling, in its refusal to simplify people and so present them as 'characters'. I shall treasure Young's book... Crispin Jackson, The Literary Review; I have not laughed so much since my first reading of The Third Policeman... This book is an oddity, but a beautiful oddity, which goes from high comedy to deep pathos in the flick of a semi-colon. The final impression is of a haunting sadness, as in all the best comic writing. Alannah Hopkin, The Irish Times; Augustus Young... is a highly sophisticated writer and a very funny one. If there is any justice in the world, this book ought to become classic. What makes it so successful is that it is all done with smoke and mirrors, and it is done superbly. David McLaurin, The Tablet"